


Catching The Sun

by RumblingJazz (neoculture_dorkology)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: And action and violence, Barricade Is Pissed, But there will be fluff, Kidnapping, M/M, Poor Sunstreaker, Prowl Does Not Approve, The Typical Plot of City-mech Caught By Barbarian.... With A Twist!, barbarian au, there will be angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-21 03:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoculture_dorkology/pseuds/RumblingJazz
Summary: Being kidnapped by a young barbarian with too much to say in a language he didn't understand was not on Sunstreaker's to-do list. Getting involved in a tribal war was definitely not on Sunstreaker's to-do list.And siring a sparkling who would supposedly bring the return of Unicron? Definitely, most certainly, absolutely not on Sunstreaker's to-do list.





	1. The Attack

The caravan didn't seem to be heavily guarded, but Bluestreak knew that meant nothing when it came to the citymechs. He shifted beside Barricade, easing into a position he could easily move from. His sire shot him a dark look, a silent reprimand for the movement that could have cost them their lives, especially if they had been observing a tribe rather than a citymech caravan. Despite technically being an adult, Bluestreak was still young and had much to learn. Barricade loved to remind him of this.

Finally, Barricade made the signal for them to attack. 

The barbarians descended upon the caravan from their ambush points. Bluestreak nocked an arrow in his bow and fired, taking out the first guard who stepped into view. They would soon be at a range that his bow would be useless in, but he could use his skills for the time being. The young barbarian felled another three guards before he slung his bow on his back and retrieved the sword that hung there. 

Citymechs. Their caravans were _always_ guarded heavily. 

Bluestreak crashed into a mech painted a generic purple and hacked him down. Two more who were identical took his place; Bluestreak fought and slew them, as well. He would never understand citymechs; this caravan was guarded by multiple mechs wearing the same paint job and with the same frames. Bluestreak wondered if they were all related, and then put that thought aside as he dodged a blast from one of the citymechs' weapons. 

His sire tore the citymech in half, dentae bared in a ferocious snarl. Bluestreak moved on, closer to their raiding party's goal. 

His progress was halted by a yellow citymech stepping into his path. Bluestreak centered his weight and shifted his positioning so that he was more prepared for an attack, his optics boring into the larger mecha's. 

The yellow mech said something that Bluestreak didn't understand before he attacked, his own blade tearing through the air where Bluestreak had been standing. The young barbarian had dodged to the inside, and kicked the citymech in the side. A hand caught Bluestreak's arm and pulled him into a knee; the smaller mech retaliated by biting the soft plating of the citymech's leg. He was released, and took two steps backward so that he had more room to maneuver.

The yellow mech was strong, from what Bluestreak could tell. He was also good-looking. Bluestreak tilted his head as he ducked out of the way of the citymech's blade. His adversary snarled something at him, but Bluestreak ignored it in favor of kicking the citymech in the midsection. His efforts were rewarded by a hand curling around the back of his neck and tossing him against one of the wagons. Bluestreak grimaced and got to his feet. At least neither of his doorwings had been injured in the impact. They'd be sore for a few days, though. 

He rolled out of the way of an attack and sprang to his feet, his sword clashing with the citymech's. Sparks flew, metaphorically and physically - Bluestreak pressed forward, sweeping the golden citymech's legs from beneath him and dropping neatly to kneel on his abdomen, one knee pressed into his chest. The other knee was splayed out to the side, pinning the citymech's sword arm to the ground. 

The citymech hooked his free hand behind the knee on his chest and he rolled them to the side, Bluestreak landing on his back. He barely managed to snap his doorwings open far enough to accommodate for this change when they landed, and he knew his doorwings and joints were definitely going to be sore. Oh well; he was a warrior of the tribe. He could handle a bit of aching metal. 

Bluestreak wrapped his legs around the citymech's waist and pulled him to the side, rolling back on top of him. A hooking punch to the side of his face distracted him long enough for the barbarian to stand up. The yellow citymech followed him up quickly, an uppercut clipping Bluestreak's chin. Their blades were forgotten as they exchanged blows, the yellow mech's eyes lit with something that might have been respect. It was apparent that he had underestimated Bluestreak, and what he could do. 

A lucky, and powerful, strike knocked Bluestreak back to the ground. The barbarian rolled out of the way of a stomping strike, and scooped up his sword. He surged to his feet and forced the citymech back, pushing him away from his own sword. He underestimated him, however; the citymech tore a section of paneling off of one of the wagons and hit Bluestreak in the side of the face with it. 

Energon ran down Bluestreak's faceplates, his fingers coming away sticky when he reached up to touch the wound. 

The citymech said something, his tone and stance cocky. Bluestreak looked away from his fingers, optics wide as he tried to discern what the citymech had said. 

Ah, well. He supposed it didn't matter, in the end; Bluestreak sprang at him again, knocking him into the wagon he had torn. He wouldn't be there when Barricade retrieved what they came for, but surely his Sire would be proud of him when he revealed that he had caught a worthy mate.  


	2. The First Attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barricade and Bluestreak argue.

"A city-mech?!" 

Bluestreak bristled. "He's a worthy mate, Sire! He fought for his caravan well. Besides, my carrier is a city-mech, as you never seem to allow us to forget. Why can't I bring a city-mech into my own tent?!" 

Barricade scowled. "Your carrier's circumstances were _different_ , Bluestreak!" 

"Yes, they were, but I still caught him and I'm still taking him back to the tribe!" the young warrior insisted, his doorwings settling into a high V. 

"You're too young to take a mate," Barricade snarled. 

"I am not, I'm of age and I've gone through the rite of adulthood. You're not allowed to decide when I can and can't take a mate, Sire! Carrier would stand with me on this, I know it. I can already tell our sparklings would be strong and good additions to the tribe. Pit, he _himself_ would be! What would you have me do? Release him and find another mate, when I have him?" Bluestreak demanded, his doorwings flaring out to match his sire's. "I'm not backing down from this, Sire." 

Barricade rumbled a growl, and then spun on his heel. "We will discuss this when we rejoin the tribe, Bluestreak. In the meantime, he is _your_ responsibility, and no-one else's." 

"I wouldn't ask anyone to care for him," Bluestreak retorted, his doorwings finally settling. He hefted the unconscious golden warrior, staggering a bit at how heavy he was, and started after his sire. Other warriors in the raiding party were muttering among themselves, discussing what had just occurred between creator and creation. Bluestreak chose to ignore them; if the tribe wished to gossip about he and his sire, that was up to them. 

He was more concerned with the city warrior slung over his shoulder. He would surely try to escape if he got the chance, and Bluestreak relished the chance to prove himself. Even if Barricade didn't seem to think Bluestreak was capable, the young mech was more than certain he could handle the warrior from the cities. Absently, he wondered which city the mech came from. Was it the one that was rumored to have gorgeous fliers, or was he from the Towers, like Bluestreak's carrier? Perhaps his carrier would be able to tell him! 

"Yer sire's really fraggin' ticked," a familiar voice drawled. Ironhide had dropped back to join Bluestreak, his optics flitting over the young barbarian and his prize. "An' Ah know 'e seems like he's bein' an unreasonable aft just fer th' hell of it, but he's just not ready ta let ya grow up, Blue. In yer sire's optics, yer still just th' bitlet who ran 'im ragged." 

Bluestreak frowned. "I know, Ironhide, but it's still kind of upsetting. Sire says nothing to anyone else, even those younger than me, when they think they're ready to take a mate. I left behind being a youngling a long time ago. All of the younglings I was raised with already have mates of their own, and he never said they were too young. And what's wrong with mating with a city-mech? Sire himself did. Carrier came from the cities and adjusted just fine. This shouldn't be a problem between Sire and I. He's been nothing short of irrita--" 

"Vent, Blue, yer losin' an old mech," Ironhide drawled. Bluestreak would have elbowed him if he could; Ironhide was not that old. "As Ah said, yer Sire just ain't ready ta letcha go. Ya movin' inta a tent o' yer own was enougha a shock f'r 'im, an' now yer comin' back ta th' tribe with a potential mate. 'Cade's probably jus' scared he'll lose ya." 

"That's a foolish thing for Sire to be afraid of. I'm clearly not going anywhere. I haven't been caught by someone by another tribe, and I'll hopefully be mated soon. I won't be leaving the tribe. Sire isn't going to lose me unless I get outcasted from the tribe, for whatever reason that might happen." Bluestreak ex-vented. "This is why Uncle Prowl considers Sire to be illogical: Sire fears things that won't happen." 

Ironhide snorted. "Ya never know what could happen, kid. Yer sire might not be fearin' things that won't happen. Ah know f'r sure that 'im losin' ya ain't an empty fear. But Ah'll tell 'im ta be easier on ya. Yer right, 'e does treat other younglings differently, an' yer right, 'e 'as been irritable lately. Ah'll go talk to 'im, see if 'e won't lighten up." 

 

* * *

 

Bluestreak had chosen to stay on the outskirts of the camp, to keep his golden city-mech away from the other warriors. He had no doubt that the city warrior would attempt to escape, and so he recharged lightly, face pressed against golden plating. He and Barricade hadn't spoken since their argument over the city-mech, and Bluestreak had the distinct impression that his sire was sulking. Ironhide had probably attempted to talk sense into him, and ended up bruising his pride. Well, that wasn't Bluestreak's fault. 

A movement against him startled him out of recharge, optics onlining to meet the golden warrior's. For a moment, both of them lay still, merely staring into one another's optics. Bluestreak thought the city warrior had gorgeous optics, but didn't voice his thoughts. It would ruin the moment and possibly wake the other warriors. Bluestreak didn't want to deal with a grouchy, recharge-deprived Barricade. That would not turn out well. 

The moment was destined to be ruined, however, for the golden warrior was leaping to his feet in the next second. Bluestreak followed him up, springing on him and bringing him to the ground with a definite crashing sound and plenty of loud cursing. Bluestreak could hear voices coming from around the campfire, and exhaled. So much for not rousing the rest of the temporary camp. 

"Wha's goin' on over there?" Trailbreaker demanded. His accent was almost worse than Ironhide's when he was tired. "Havin' trouble?" 

"Not in the slightest," Bluestreak answered cheerfully as he kept the golden warrior down with two fingers in a pressure point, and his weight draped across the city-mech's back. "He just tried to escape, which is entirely normal, right? But he got only one step. Ohhh, he's growling at me. I don't understand what you're saying," he informed the city warrior. "You're going to have to speak with my carrier. Perhaps he'll understand what you're saying. No no no, no squirming. We can recharge like this, or we can go back to the mat and you can be a good city-mech and behave." 

"For Primus' sake," he heard someone mutter as the rest of the warriors returned to their mats, "Barricade, your kid never shuts up." 

Eventually, the golden mech went limp underneath him, and Bluestreak stepped off of him, reaching down to grab his chained hands in case he got any ideas. The golden warrior growled at him, but allowed himself to be led back to the thin mat they recharged on. Snuggling with Bluestreak seemed to be out of the question, however, because whenever the young warrior tried to get close, the city-mech would push him away to ensure there was space between them. 

Bluestreak frowned up at him. "We're going to have to talk about this," he stated, and lay his head on his arm, offlining his optics. "Night." 

He missed the flicker in the golden warrior's optics when he looked down at the chain around his wrists, and then back at Bluestreak's face.


	3. Morning Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak is teased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to mention that this chapter does not start directly after the last one.

Bluestreak snapped out of recharge and onlined his optics mere moments before the citymech's hands would have wrapped around his neck cabling, presumably to rip out some of his fuel and energon lines. He brought a leg up and kicked him in the abdomen, locking his leg out in order to keep the golden warrior's hands away from his delicate areas. That trick didn't work for long, however, and he was soon rolling out of the way of a downward kick. His doorwings complained at the roll, but it had been necessary.

There wasn't much the golden warrior could do with his wrists tied together, but he certainly made do with his legs. Bluestreak took a few moments to admire him before he decided that enough was enough, seized the city warrior, and performed a perfect hip-toss that he had been taught by his uncle's mate. The city-mech landed on his back, and gazed up at Bluestreak in what may have been surprise. The young barbarian huffed, and pointed at the recharge mat. 

"I'd like to rest," he said, keeping his voice low. "Get on the mat, it's time for recharge. You couldn't try to kill me and escape tomorrow? Well. No, actually, I suppose you couldn't; that was a dumb question. I wouldn't wait in your position either. I mean, you have to ensure that your mate is worthy, right? ...You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?" Bluestreak asked. He ex-vented and grabbed the chain around the warrior's hands, using it to both help him up and lead him back to the mat, ignoring all of the growling and snapping noises he made on the way. 

Getting him to lay down was much easier than it was to get him to the mat, thankfully. The golden warrior allowed himself to be pulled down, eliciting a relieved ex-vent from Bluestreak. The young warrior lowered himself to the mat beside the golden warrior and curled toward him, though kept from touching him - earlier in the night cycle, he had made it clear that he wasn't going to allow any snuggling. His loss; Bluestreak was good at giving warm snuggles. 

Bluestreak gazed at the golden warrior for a moment longer and then offlined his optics, his helm resting on his hands as he shifted around to find a comfortable spot to lay. 

 

* * *

 

Bluestreak barely got any recharge that night cycle. The golden city warrior hadn't stopped attempting escape until it was close to first light - at random intervals throughout the entire night cycle, he would try another method of escape, and Bluestreak would catch him again. Eventually, however, the golden warrior actually recharged, and Bluestreak had done the same.

That had been a short respite, though, for the warriors had to be moving as soon as the sky began to change colors with the beginning of the day cycle. Bluestreak had dragged himself off of the recharge mat and prepared himself for the long trek in silence, something which had definitely attracted the attention of the other warriors in the raiding party. Though nothing had been said until Barricade gave the order for them to move out, Ironhide's knowing grin and the way Onslaught shook his helm told him that it was coming. 

"Hey, Blue! Bit off more than you could chew?" Trailbreaker asked, his visor gleaming with mischief and a slag-eating grin stretching his faceplates. 

"No, thank you, I have not. I can handle him, Trailbreaker," Bluestreak answered with a short ex-vent. Ignoring the squirming and spewing of harsh words in a language he couldn't comprehend, he adjusted the golden warrior slung over his shoulder. Now that he was conscious, he was going to be harder to carry - he kicked and fought like a desperate wildcat in his attempts to get out of Bluestreak's hold. Or perhaps he merely disliked the color of the cloth Bluestreak had wrapped around his waist, for modesty's sake? 

"Bluestreak's gonna be jus' fine if th' flyin' bearhug from last night is somethin' we c'n judge by," Ironhide remarked as he sauntered toward them, doing nothing to hide his grin. "An' th' energon-curdlin' scream may help 'im too. Ya never know when yer gonna need ta scream yer opponent's audials off. Or yer mate's." 

Though he had expected to be teased after the events of the previous night cycle, Bluestreak still flushed at Ironhide's playfully contemplative words. The golden warrior fell silent, Bluestreak's sensory panels picking up how his helm tilted toward Ironhide as he squirmed. 

"What's going on?" Barricade asked. Bluestreak's doorwings shot up - he hadn't noticed the approach of his sire, too distracted by Ironhide, Trailbreaker, and the squirming warrior slung over his shoulder. He would probably hear about that as well, once they had returned to the main camp. A warrior was supposed to be constantly aware of his surroundings, how could he forget? 

Ironhide grinned at the leader of their raiding party. "Trailbreaker an' Ah were jus' discussin' how Blue's flyin' tackle hugs an' loud screams will serve 'im well in th' future, 'Cade. If Ah was Blue's mate, Ah'd do what 'e said jus' so 'e wouldn't holler at me like Ah was 'is enemy on th' battlefield. Oh, an' maybe we should move 'is tent ta th' outside o' th' camp so 'e won't keep everyone awake." 

Bluestreak scowled, and probably would have said something to defend himself, if not for more shift-squirming from the city-mech and a curious brushing touch along one of his doorwings. Bluestreak's plating ruffled, a ripple going straight down to his protoform in response to the touch. He prayed that the city warrior realized what kind of signals that was sending, and flicked his doorwing in a motion that stated, to those who could read doorwings, _now isn't the time_.

Barricade noticed, and arched a browridge; Bluestreak smiled at him as though nothing was wrong, adjusted the city-mech over his shoulder, and kept walking. 

**Author's Note:**

> Rating/Warnings may increase.


End file.
